


And When the Time Comes

by Snow_white79



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean is a Good Brother, Lucifer has a job for Sam, Sam's Powers, Season/Series 12, Sick Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 09:50:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10089365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snow_white79/pseuds/Snow_white79
Summary: Sam thought he was just having vivid dreams. But Lucifer is here to tell him the visions are back, as well as the rest of his powers.This short little ficlet was written because it's time for Sam's powers to return.





	

Part 1 : What is real?

It’s dark, and Sam isn’t sure if the fog is from the sky, or coming off the wet soil beneath his feet. He stumbles for a moment, pausing to remember why he is in the middle of the forest. Looking up, he can see the moonlight above him. “No stars,” he murmurs to himself. 

“Sure there are,” a familiar voice responds. Sam looks around, but sees nothing but trees. Looking up again, he can see the sky littered by a million stars.  
Turning back towards the direction of the voice, Sam realizes that the trees are gone. Instead, he is on a beach. “A dream,” he answers to himself, not bothering to question it. His dreams were always strange, this wasn’t anything new.

Except now there was a wooden, white park bench in the middle of the empty beach. Frowning, Sam walks towards it. He can hear the waves from the ocean, but sees nothing but darkness when he turns towards the sound. 

“It’s too dark, Sam,” the voice says.

On the bench sits Lucifer, a relaxed smile on the devil’s face. 

“Is this real?” Sam has to ask. He knows Lucifer may or not answer with the truth however.

“Have I ever lied to you?” The dark blonde asks, feigning insult. Instead of waiting for a reply, he looks back towards the darkness in front of him. “You always wanted to go to the beach. Isn’t that right, Sam? Your brother wanted to take you, but you guys never found the time. Shame, isn’t it? But look, I brought the beach to you.” 

Sam sighs loudly, “What do you want, Lucifer?” 

“Ouch. Such manners, Sammy,” Lucifer scolds, but then smiles. The smile makes Sam tense. He knows that smile well. The devil gestures for Sam to sit beside him. When it looks like the younger Winchester isn’t planning to make a move forward, Lucifer continues, “I wanted to tell you how proud I am of you.”

Sam frowns, not sure he is comfortable getting any sort of praise from the devil. Scratch that, he knows he isn’t comfortable getting any praise from the devil. 

“I’ve been watching you. Listening, observing…I heard what you said to that girl, Magda.” He stops, waiting for Sam’s reaction. Sam keeps his face neutral. He knows better than to give away any emotion. “You accepted your gifts, finally, Sam. I was so proud.” 

Sam looks over where the ocean should be. “She’ll be alright,” he wonders what Magda is doing right now. 

“She’s dead.” 

Sam quickly looks back over at Lucifer, “What did you do?!” He gasps, feeling his heart clench. He hopes this is a trick. The devil is always so good with tricks.

“I didn’t do anything. Your friend, Arthur Ketch, did the deed. Shot her soon after you and your brother left. Poor kiddo. I guess you should’ve stayed, Sam. Or maybe let her tag along for a while…help her get on her feet. But you didn’t think about that, did you?” Lucifer asks, his voice sympathetic, though they both know the devil has no sympathy. 

“You’re lying,” Sam grounds out. He wants to wake up. He wants to run to his lap top and find Magda. 

“Nope. Sorry, Sammy, she was shot dead by Mommy’s pals. They wanted her dead because she was different…like you, Sammy.”

“It’s Sam. And I don’t believe you.” Sam argues, but he knows Lucifer is right. He can feel it.

“She’s dead, Sam. And those people are going to want you dead too when they find out your powers are back.” Lucifer warns. 

“They—they’re…” Sam stops, his words dying before he can even begin. It’s at that moment that he realizes that the dreams he has been having since his time in the prison cell were actually visions. They seemed so vivid, and Sam would always wake up feeling shaken, but he brushed the feelings away. It wasn’t until seeing Lucifer as Vince that he began to question himself because it felt so familiar to him. And holding open those doors was awfully familiar, as he immediately remembered doing that same action in a dream he had a few nights earlier. 

Lucifer grins, nodding his head. “That’s right. See?”

Sam shakes his head, “No. It’s…” 

“Sam,” Lucifer warns, “Don’t make me disappointed in you…again. You were finally accepting who you were and now you’re backtracking. Sit with me.”

Sam knows there isn’t any point fighting it and finds himself sitting down heavily beside Lucifer on the bench. The back of the wooden bench presses against Sam’s jacket, and the younger Winchester tries to remember if he was wearing the jacket earlier in the forest. 

“You’re a Campbell, Sam. A very important line of very important people, some with strong psychic abilities…and my loyal follower, Azazel gifted you with even more power than you already had in you.” Lucifer smiles fondly, looking over at Sam like a prized possession. “You should have been grateful, Sam.” He sighs, brushing back a strand of Sam’s hair as the wind begins to pick up. “Those gifts…it started with visions, but you knew it could have been more. You moved things from time to time with your mind…but you were so afraid. And after Ruby, you just buried it all, didn’t you?”

Sam finds himself nodding. “I’m not a monster.” He didn’t mean to say it out loud, but it was hard to hide things from Lucifer. It didn’t matter. Lucifer always knew.

“No,” Lucifer coos, “You were never a monster, Sam. Just like Magda wasn’t a monster. You were just different. And people are scared of what’s different. You know that. They call you a freak…an abomination.”

Sam looks away, down at his hands. He feels cold, but tries to will his dream to change the scenery. It works: the wind dies down and the sun begins to rise. Sam looks up at the ocean. He knows it isn’t real. It’s from a movie he once saw. 

“During our time together, I saw those gifts, Sam,” Lucifer confides. “You hid them so deep, but I saw them. I held them for you. I kept them safe. For you.”

He ignores the heat on his face, the tightness in his throat. The tears prick the edges of his eyes, but Sam refuses to let them fall. 

“But it’s time, Sam. I let them go. I gave them back to you when we finally reunited, even for such a brief interval. You didn’t even notice because you were so deep in denial.” Lucifer chuckles, “My boy, Sam, it’s time to open that door and let them all in.”

“No,” Sam shakes his head quickly. “I don’t want them.”

“It’s not a choice, Samuel,” Lucifer replies calmly. “You need to accept who you are. You have a mission.”

Sam looks at him, alarmed. “What mission?”

“You’ll know soon enough,” the devil answers with a soft smile, “And you’ll be ready.” Lucifer gently pulls Sam down, letting the young Winchester rest his head on his lap. Carding his fingers through Sam’s hair, Lucifer whispers, “And I’ll be watching, listening…and, Sam…” he pauses, letting his palm rest against Sam’s forehead. “I’m going to be so proud of you.” 

Sam gasps against the pain. It feels like something inside of him is exploding. He opens his mouth, wanting to scream, but nothing comes out. 

He is back in his bedroom now, choking on the scream stuck in his throat. Sucking in air, he tries to catch his breath, his heart beating hard and echoing between his ears.  
Kicking off his sheets, Sam jumps out of bed and looks around. He touches the walls, feeling them and convincing himself that he is now awake. Falling onto his knees, Sam tries to stand back up, but he is shaking too hard. Lifting his hand towards the night table by his bed, he tries to reach for his lamp. It turns on before his fingers touch it. 

Jumping back, Sam cries out. _Not real,_ he tries to tell himself. Slowly, he lifts his hand up again towards the lamp and moves his finger. The light turns off. _No._ Bringing his knees to his chest, Sam tries not to cry. _Not happening. This is not happening._

 

Part 2: My brother, my home

Call it a sixth sense, but Dean had his eyes open as soon as the doorknob of his bedroom was turned. One hand under his pillow, Dean waits until the door opens before deciding whether to pull the gun out. “Sam?” He calls out, wincing at the gruffness of his voice. “You okay, man?” Obviously, his brother isn’t, and Dean mentally calls himself out for being an idiot. 

Dean watches as his brother closes the door behind him. Sam's tear-stained cheeks mostly hidden under his mop of hair hiding his face as he keeps his head down. The only reason Dean could see the tracks of tears was from the light that is always on in their hallway. But now with the door closed, Dean can only now make the shadow of his younger brother as Sam crawls over onto the bed and quickly wraps his arms around Dean’s torso.

“Whoa, Sammy, wha’ happened?” Dean asks, already feeling more awake than a few seconds earlier. An interrupted night with his younger brother crawling into his bed after a nightmare wasn’t anything new, but most nights, when a nightmare was bad enough to cause Sam to leave his bedroom, the younger Winchester would take care not to wake his older brother as he carefully (not so carefully) crawled into Dean’s bed. Sam would curl into one corner, and it was often Dean who would turn around and pat his brother’s back or pull him onto his chest before falling back to sleep. “Bad dream?”

Sam muffles some sort of affirmative answer into Dean’s chest. He knows he is getting his brother’s shirt wet from his tears, but he can’t bring himself to move. Instead, he tightens his grip. 

“Must’ve been pretty bad, huh, buddy?” Dean asks, rubbing Sam’s back with one hand. “You wanna talk about it?” A quick shake of his head lets Dean know the answer to that one. “Okay, Sammy. It’s okay. You’re safe. Everythin’s gonna be fine.” He feels the tiredness return, and Dean closes his eyes, humming softly.

Sam tries to smile as he recognizes the old Lynyrd Skynrd song. Loosening his hold around his brother, Sam exhales slowly. _Just a dream,_ he convinces himself. _Everything is gonna be fine._ He focuses on that, knowing that Dean will keep him safe. He refuses to think how silly that sounds because at 3:00 am, it’s practically biblical. 

Eventually, they both fall back to sleep, and it isn’t until the aroma of coffee filters the bedroom that Dean opens his eyes to an empty bed. Also not new, as Sam often pretended that the nightmares never happened once morning arrived. 

Washing up and quickly getting dressed, Dean finds his brother sitting at the table sipping his coffee, his barely eaten breakfast in front of him. 

“’Morning,” Dean says as he pours himself a cup of coffee and dumps the remains of scrambled eggs from the pan onto his plate. “She here?” He asks. He hadn’t seen Mary since yesterday. He tries not to notice his brother’s bloodshot eyes and the dark circles. Dean wonders what time Sam had woken up and left his bedroom. 

“I thought I smelled coffee,” Mary says as she walks in. Dean notices Sam tense, but doesn’t say a word. 

“How’d you boys sleep?” She asks as she pours herself a cup. She inhales deeply before taking a long sip from her mug.

“Fine,” Dean answers for both him and his brother. “Late night?” He tries not to let it bother him that she is suddenly so comfortable in the bunker. 

She gives him a half-smile, “I was on a case.” 

“A case, huh?” Dean repeats. He doesn’t want to start an argument. Not today. But the thought of his mother working with the BMOL doesn’t sit right with him. 

She nods her head. “Shapeshifters,” she adds. She looks over at Sam and frowns. “Were you guys on a case too? We could have helped.”

Dean doesn’t bother to respond. He’s still too irritated, and he’s worried about his brother. The kid looks too pale. Dean wonders if he is about to be sick.

Sam looks over at their mother and then glances at the wall behind her. He tries to figure out if he’s still asleep as he watches Lucifer lean against the wall, filing his nails. The devil pauses, looking up at Sam, “Oh, hey, don’t mind me. I’m just eavesdropping.”

“Sam?” Mary asks. “Are you coming down with something?” She reaches over to touch his forehead and Sam flinches away quickly before she can touch him.

“I’m fine.” He swallows hard and takes a slow sip of his coffee, ignoring the fact that it is already cold. 

“Liar, liar, pants on fire,” Lucifer taunts. He pushes off the wall. “Can you hear her, Sammy? Mommy doesn’t believe you. In fact, she’s thinking so many things right now…like how she wishes you would just do what she says…hmmm, she’s a bit like your Dad, isn’t she? You’re not her baby anymore. Nope, that kid died with her in that fire. You’re something she can make though. Build you up to make her proud. That is, until she realizes you’re a freak and decides to off you like Ketch did to Magda. Wow…she is like your dad.” 

Sam can feel the small amount of eggs and coffee rush up his stomach. Quickly covering his mouth, he jumps out of his seat, the chair crashing behind him. He barely makes it to the trashcan, vomiting into the metal can. 

Dean is behind him within seconds, one hand on his back. “Just breathe, man. You got it.” He helps Sam sit on the floor against the wall. “Here, rinse.” He hands a water bottle to him and watches as Sam chugs and rinses before spitting it into the trash can. Sam tries to ignore the smell as he is pretty sure he might vomit again. 

“Wanna try to drink a little?” Dean asks, holding the water by his brother’s mouth. 

Sam doesn’t want to, but leans forward and lets Dean pour a bit into his mouth. He swallows, the water burning his throat. 

“Are you sick?” Mary asks, and Sam shuts his eyes tightly. The room is much too bright, and Mary to much too close. 

“That’s a loaded question, isn’t it, Sam, my boy?” Lucifer asks as he plops down beside him. “You wanna break the news to her?” 

“Just breathe, Sammy,” Dean says, and Sam realizes he’s been holding his breath. He exhales and inhales, ignoring the churning feeling in his stomach. “Better?” Dean asks.

“Ha!” Lucifer laughs. “Not really. You’re a mess. I thought I told you to accept who you are, Sam? You’re just doing this to yourself. Open your eyes…let’s see if they’re yellow or black. I gotta say, I’m a little bit curious.” 

“Was he sick last night?” Mary asks, and Dean ignores her in favor of pouring some water over his palm and wetting Sam’s face with his hand.

Sam scrunches his face, pressing the heel of his hands against his forehead. His head was pounding.

“It’s going to get worse before it gets better, Pookie,” Lucifer comments. “Here, let me help you,” he taps Sam’s head.

The pain explodes and Sam is momentarily blinded by the light. Then he suddenly sees his brother driving the Impala, laughing. The scene quickly changes and someone is choking Mary over a table as she is reaching for a dagger. The scene changes again and it’s Mick being shot in the chest several times and falling to the ground in an alley. The scene changes again and again, and soon Sam can’t keep up. 

“You’re okay, buddy. You’re okay…” Dean’s voice echoes in his head and Sam realizes he’s dry heaving into the trash can. 

Sitting back against the wall. Sam winces. Everything hurt. “You done?” He hears his brother ask. It takes all his energy to nod his head. “Okay,” Dean continues, “I’m gonna dump this. Don’t move.” 

Sam wants to tell him to shut up. He wants to joke about how he can’t even move if he wanted to. But everything hurts. Instead, he keeps his eyes closed. 

He can tell Mary is still in the room. She hasn’t moved any closer to him, and Sam is grateful for that.

“Sam, is there anything I can do?” She asks, and Sam wants to laugh, or maybe cry. He isn’t sure anymore. He certainly never wanted his mother to see him like this. 

He hears the familiar footsteps of Dean returning and he doesn’t remember ever feeling as thankful as he does at that very moment. “Okay, buddy, I’m gonna help you up.” 

“Do you want me to help?” Mary asks, taking a step forward.

“We’re fine,” Dean replies, and even with his eyes closed and his head pounding, Sam can still feel the bite from his brother’s words.

“It’s not like I’ve never done this before, Dean,” Mary shoots back, and it reminds Sam of all the times he and his father used to go back and forth like that. It must have driven Dean crazy back then.

“I said we’re fine. I got this.” Dean answers, pulling Sam up a little harder than necessary.

“Dean, you’re just being difficult,” Mary argues and reaches over to take Sam’s other arm.

Dean pulls Sam closer towards himself. “I’ve been taking care of Sammy for the past thirty years. I know what I’m doing.” He half drags his brother out of the kitchen, ignoring their mother’s frustrated glare. “No lectures, Sam,” he mutters to his brother, knowing that no matter how out of it Sam was at the moment, his brother could hear what was going on just fine.

Sam shakes his head, trying to ignore how his body is shaking. He tightens his grip against Dean’s shirt and trusts his brother to take him where he needs to go.

Entering Sam’s bedroom, Dean leads him into the bathroom. “How about a warm shower? You’re shaking like a leaf, Sammy, and no offense, but you missed the trash can at one point and kinda reek.”

Sam doesn’t argue when he’s placed on the floor. He keeps his eyes closed when the water is turned on and he lets Dean undress him and guide him under the warm spray. “Can you stand for a bit on your own?”

Sam nods his head, not trusting himself to open his eyes. He can hear Dean leave the room and return a few moments later. The rustle of the shower curtain lets him know that his brother is back. “You just gonna stand there?” Dean asks, and Sam knows he’s teasing. A few seconds later and the nozzle is off. The water hits him wherever his brother chooses, and soon it’s turned off and a towel is wrapped over Sam’s shoulders and another around his waist. “Come on, let’s get you back to bed,” Dean says.

“N’tired,” Sam tries to explain, but Dean ignores him. Instead, Sam finds himself sitting on the bed. 

“You gonna open your eyes?” The older Winchester asks.

“No.” 

“Head still hurtin’?” Dean asks as he puts a shirt over Sam’s head and begins pulling his brother’s arms through the sleeves.

“Yeah,” Sam whispers.

“What happened?” Dean asks, and Sam is forever grateful for how calm and casual his brother can be about things like this. Like it’s perfectly normal for his 30-something year-old brother to run into his room in the middle of the night and then puke all over himself in the morning. 

“She’s dead.” Sam can feel the weight of the words and he thinks about Magda lying dead, alone on a dirty floor.

Dean pauses for a moment, but then kneels down to put Sam’s feet into his pajama pants. “Who’s dead, Sammy?”

“Magda,” he whispers. “Arthur Ketch killed her.”

“You had a vision?” Dean asks, and there is no accusation in his tone. He pulls the pajama pants up, and pushes Sam down onto his back so he can pull the pants over his brother’s hips. Sam is too tired and too sore to argue about doing it himself. 

“I kept thinking they were just bad dreams…but they weren’t.” Sam says, his voice so low that Dean strains to hear him. 

“Talk to me,” Dean says, helping Sam under the covers. He sits down on the bed beside him. “What did you see?”

“Dean…my eyes…are they… are they normal?” Sam asks, the fear lacing his words. The tension enters the room and Sam can feel the tears burning behind his eyelids. 

“Well…you gotta open your eyes first, Sammy…so…so I can see.” Dean finally answers. He combs Sam’s hair back with his fingers. 

“What if…what if…” Sam stops, biting his lower lip as it starts to quiver.

“Hey,” Dean calls out softly, pulling his brother’s face into his hands. “What if nothing, man. It’ll be okay.”

“I didn’t…I didn’t drink any demon blood, I swear, I didn’t…”

“I know, Sammy, it’ll be okay. Just open your eyes, lemme see.” Dean says, ignoring his own panic for the moment and concentrating on his brother. 

“I don’t want this. I wanna be normal, Dean. I thought it was over…” Sam whispers, feeling the wetness on his cheeks from the escaped tears.

“Is it just visions? Or is there more?” Dean asks, already knowing that there is probably more to it than visions.

Sam nods his head, “I made the light turn on and off last night…I didn’t mean it…Dean, Lucifer said—“

“Whoa, Lucifer? Wait, you’re seeing him again?!” Dean tries not to sound angry. “Since when?”

Sam can’t help the sob that escapes. 

Dean pulls Sam against his chest. “Hey, none of that. It’s okay. We’ll figure it out. We always do, right?”

“I had a dream last night and he was in it… and he told me that it was time…that I had a job to do…” Sam whispers into his brother’s chest.

“What job?” Dean asks, already trying to figure out how to capture Lucifer and put him back in the cage. No one was going to hurt his brother.

“I dunno. He wouldn’t tell me.” Sam answers. “I don’t want this, Dean. I’m not…I don’t want to be a monster!”

“You ain’t a monster, Sammy. Come on, man. You’re Sam freakin’ Winchester. My pain in the ass little brother.” Dean answers with an easy grin. Gently pushing Sam away, he tilts his brother’s face towards him. “Come on, man. Open your eyes, lemme see.”

Taking a deep breath, Sam opens his eyes. 

Dean smiles, “Looks normal to me.”

Sam exhales slowly, “Really?” He tries to ignore the voice in his head calling his brother a liar. He was never normal.

Dean nods, “Really, man. You’re okay.” And he feels incredibly grateful that he can say this to his brother and mean it. Because he knows that Sam will be okay. Life has never been easy for them, but they always got through it. This was just another bump in the road.

Sam shakes his head. “No, I’m not.” He shivers, and Dean pulls the blankets up and under Sam’s chin.

“You will be okay.” Dean corrects. He smiles softly. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll figure it out. Like always.” 

“Don’t tell Mom,” Sam says quickly, looking away when Dean’s smile disappears. He knows Mary is a sore subject for his brother right now.

“If she has a problem with you, she knows where the door is.” Dean replies, and Sam knows that his brother is serious. 

“Dean?” 

“Yeah?” He already knows what his brother is going to ask. 

“Can you stay here for awhile?” Sam knows he sounds like a little kid asking for his brother not to leave him alone. But he also knows that Dean wouldn’t leave the room without knowing for sure that his younger brother was 100% comfortable with the idea.

Smiling, Dean nods. He hadn’t planned on moving and he knows Sam knew it too. “Sure, kiddo.” 

Nodding back, Sam closes his eyes. “My head feels better,” he murmurs. Dean rubs Sam’s forehead with his thumb.

“Good. Maybe you can try some toast when you wake up.” Dean offers. He hopes that the headaches are done for the day. He has about a dozen questions, but he knows they can wait until his brother gets some rest and can keep down some food. 

“Okay.” Sam can feel the exhaustion setting in. 

“Go to sleep, bitch.” Dean says with a soft smile.

“G’night, jerk,” Sam answers back. Sinking deeper into the covers, Sam listens as his brother hums him to sleep.


End file.
